Unmourned
by Giggles-Manically
Summary: Push a man far enough, and he becomes capable of anything. See what happens when the Champion of Kirkwall gets pushed over the line, and learn what happens at the beginning of the end of Thedas as we know it. M for violence/language/stuff.


_UNMOURNED_

With a sudden rush, and a flash of steel in the night two bodies collapsed to the forest floor kicking up the freshly fallen snow. Soon the snow would cover their bodies as well.

A man in a heavy cloak stood over both bodies and looked down at both of them. A hand reached from the cloak and checked each neck for signs of life. Their armor was certainly impressive, with all its markings and angles. A giant flaming sword over the chest piece, and holy symbols on the leggings added to its visage. Against a skilled assailant however, who knew its weak spots it was useless.

Dragging their corpses underneath some nearby bushes, the killer quickly covered up as much evidence of his killings as time would allow.

_Sentries, _the man thought as he judged which direction they had come from off their tracks.

His cloak covered a set of black and red armor that fit tightly to his large frame. Two very long and brutal looking daggers were on his belt, as well as many small vials across his chest. Judging by his outfitting alone he was well equipped, and prepared.

Moving swiftly through the trees, making little noise as he went the man backtracked the route his victims had taken. Listening intently, he heard a voice not too far off from him.

"Damn the Maker for making it so bloody cold up here this time of year, I can't even feel my toes!" a loud voice rang out.

"Stop your moaning Karnel only two more rounds and back to camp" a voice replied.

The man paused, checked his blades, and veered towards his next targets.

"Don't even know why we are out here anyway, only found that one malificar a few weeks ago and that is it" the voice belonging to Karnel said again.

"She didn't even put up that much a fight anyway, well not after the Knight Captain had her" Karnel added with a snicker.

"Ugh, man is a right up bastard I say, just kill 'em, and find some tramp in the next village for a few bits" the other man replied.

If they had been doing their job as sentries, and not talking so loudly they may just have heard the slight sound of footfalls, and the rustling of a cloak.

"Not my problem what-"Karnel started to say before a very long dagger slammed into his side. Before his fellow could react the man spun around Karnel and stabbed his other dagger into his face, right through the slot in his helmet.

In less than the space of a few seconds both men collapsed to their ground, one dead, and the other near death.

The man glanced down at the dying templar and moved in for the kill.

"Please... I...-"whatever he wanted to say, went unsaid as two strong hands grabbed his head, and with a viscous twist snapped his neck.

Removing his dagger from Karnel's side the man looked down at the bodies and whispered "Sodding templars", then spat on Karnel's corpse. Repeating what he had done to the last two sentries, the man headed towards where their fellows where encamped.

Looking over a ridge towards the camp the man realized just how many templars were in this group now. Doing a quick estimate of the multiple fires and tents below the man realized that there where over thirty templars down below him. More must have joined the group he was after.

_That rules out a direct assault then... pity_ the man thought to himself.

_I'll have to draw them apart and go after them one by one...but I need some bait first. Draw them into smaller groups, than go after the Knight Captain when he has fewer men around him. _As his thoughts crossed over the Templar he was hunting, his hands gripped his daggers so hard he heard his knuckles crack.

Letting out a breath the man calmed himself and made one last sweep over the camp, making sure he had an accurate count on the templars detachment.

With a few hours till dawn the man withdrew to a small cave that provided shelter from the wind and snow. Covering the entrance with a dark sheet of cloth, he set his gear down, and lit a small lantern. He headed towards the back of the cave where a small pool of water was. After splashing water on his face, he took some jerky from his pouch and chewed on it.

Heading back to his bed roll the man finally relaxed a little and started finalizing his plan for the morning. At one time he would have shuddered to think of all the lives he was going to deliberately take. Now he only wanted to see them all dead no matter the cost. _Maker I'm sounding like Anders more and more, Lovely_, the man thought to himself.

_Still it's impressive how the Champion of Kirkwall can go from a hero to a vengeance obsessed murderer in only a few hours. Another amazing accomplishment that I can add to my name I guess. _Letting his thoughts go back to Kirkwall the man almost let out a laugh, _guess I really did become a Kirkwaller then._

_The great Champion of Kirkwall, slayer of qunari, darkspawn, dragons, demons, and whatever other horror the Maker can imagine. Now out in the woods in the middle of nowhere hunting a large group of templars down just to get at one single man. Unlike his other foes it had not been personal... but these templars had made it just that._

A painful ache in his chest that he couldn't hold back shot through him as he thought over exactly _why _the great Champion Tunguska Hawke was out in the wood, hunting templars down, and killing them in cold blood.

_Enough, Sleep is what I need for tomorrow, no more self-loathing_ he mentally scolded himself. Tossing himself onto his side Hawke cleared his thoughts and went to sleep for what he desperately hoped was the last time of his life.

Sleep, however was not going to provide him any refugee this night.


End file.
